


Laughter Is Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Fluff, Multi, de-aged fic?, everyone else is an adult, toddler moritz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanschen hated two kinds of people: children, and Moritz Stiefel. Naturally, he'd hate the combination.<br/>(AKA a fic in which Moritz somehow becomes younger than he is. Might be part of a series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter Is Sunshine

There are two types of people that Hanschen hated: children, and Moritz. Children were sticky and gross, and Moritz was, well, _Moritz._ His boyfriend said otherwise. “Hansi, children are so adorable and sweet! And what has Moritz done to you?” Ernst would say. Hanschen would only roll his eyes, kiss his boyfriend’s lips to shut him up, and fall back into his novel.

He hated children, and he hated Moritz, so naturally, he’d hate the combination.

It all started when Moritz somehow managed to—what had Ernst called it? No, he said it made him even cuter. Yeah. Nothing says cute like a tiny, fluffy haired two year old version of Ernst’s best friend—Melchior’s fiancé—running around their small apartement in only a bright blue onesie. Ernst thought it was adorable. Every one of their friends agreed on that. Then there was Hanschen, being the Grinch and saying it was nasty.

“Hansiiiiiiii!” Moritz toddled across the sitting room, carrying a peanut butter sandwich in his tiny hands. “I don’t wanna eat more.” He sat on the floor in front of Hanschen’s chair. He held it up to the older man. “Do you want it?”

Hanschen tried to protest, but Ernst would murder him if he yelled at Moritz. He folded up the newspaper he’d been reading, and looked down at the boy, who still had the sandwich held out to him. “Thanks, Moritz, but I’m... allergic... to that. Go finish it.”

“But I’m not hungry,” he protested. “E’nst says it’s nice to share!”

“But you’ve already bitten into it. I’m not going to eat something that someone else ate.”

Moritz crossed his arms, and frowned. “You and E’nst share food, Hansi.” He placed the sandwich on the floor. “It’s gonna be here if you want it, okay?” He got back up, and started running again. Hanschen looked up to the ceiling, and told himself not to swear.

 

“Take your damn lover and move out of this country!” Hanschen yelled at the door. He had Moritz in his grasp, and stood at the door of Melchior and Moritz’s apartement. Melchior stood still, letting Hanschen speak. “Take this bag of stickiness and snot and _leave_ before Ernst can say anything. I am not going to keep this thing in my apartment any longer.”

Melchior smirked. “It’s been only fifteen minutes, Hanschen. He’s just adjusting to this. Give the little guy happiness.” He took Moritz out of Hanschen’s arms, and laughed. “And, I’m sorry to say, but I asked Ernst if you two could take care of him for a week.” Hanschen sighed, but Melchior continued. “Look, Hanschen, Ernst really wants to help out. He loves kids, and Moritz is his best friend. If you were a good boyfriend, or whatever you are to him, you’d let him do this.”

Hanschen made a whining sound, and stomped his foot like a child. “But I really don’t want to—”

“C’mon! It’s not that hard. You and Ernst know how to take care of Moritz, anyway. You both know what he likes to eat and do. Just please, Hanschen, would you?” Melchior started back into the apartment. “I’ll go get his c... he needs clothes. God. Okay, I’ll get someone to go out with him and get clothes. You can come in here, you know.” He waited for Hanschen to come in. “I don’t know enough about children, but I think he can eat actual food—oh! Make sure he actually eats. Even if it’s just a few cookies, it’s better than nothing. I can send over a jar of—”

“You sound like a parent instead of a future husband,” Hanschen said.

Melchior shrugged. “Older Moritz—adult-like Moritz, that’s my future husband. This is child Moritz. It’s rather odd to marry a toddler, don’t you think?” He let Moritz go. “When I get back, can you call someone, ask them to get clothes for him, and take care of him like a parent? It’ll be just one week, I promise. Please?”

Hanschen groaned, knowing he’d lose this. “Sure. Whatever. But you owe me, Melchior Gabor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Criticism and opinions are great! Thank you :)


End file.
